


Apéritif

by EmeraldInALocket



Series: The Hannibal AU [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Body Horror, Cannibalism, Crime Scenes, Horror, Murder, Psychological Horror, Thriller, haha.. who am i kidding.. i can't write.., let's also pretend i'm not anxious about posting it, maybe i'll come up with some more later on, your feedback is more than appreciated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-12-04 16:13:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11558790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldInALocket/pseuds/EmeraldInALocket
Summary: What if you put Yuri!!! On Ice characters in Hannibal universe, with Hannibal plot and everything?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is in no way creative, all of the characters and plot belongs to the respective creators/producers.  
> Sometimes I don't know how to English... or even Polish *sigh*
> 
> I'm in a bit of a creative slump, so in order to not get rusty with my writing (let's pretend that's one of the skills I do have :p) decided to do something like this. A little bit of a writing exercise I guess, nothing more. 
> 
> And the thought to do that occurred during a very intense brainstorming session with my dear friend [@BuruRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuruRaven) so an honorable mention is in order n_n (seriously, what did I do to deserve your presence in my life..? *confused noises*) Why would you encourage this trainwreck?! :p
> 
> Anyway, if you watched Hannibal (the TV series), you know what's gonna happen. If not, I hope you enjoy it anyway n_n

Crimes, especially those that involve murder, are rarely pretty. One would think that gathering evidence and cleaning up the bodies would be a somber affair. Well then, one would be sorely mistaken. 

Yuuri Katsuki stood by the huge window overlooking the dining area, his body illuminated by the flashes of red and blue lights coming from the police cars outside. With calm eyes he observed bustling police officers and FBI agents. They were running around, trying to cover as much area as possible in the shortest amount of time. 

Double homicide or not, it was quite late in the night, and everyone wanted to catch on some sleep. Yuuri had already seen a couple of officers discreetly covering their mouths in mid-yawn. The members of a medical examiner crew were already zipping up the body of a male victim and pushing it out of the house on a gurney. 

The second victim, a woman in her late thirties, was laying on her back, glassy eyes fixed on the ceiling. Splatters of blood covered the house alarm pad and most of the wall around it. Officers running around were mindful of the pool of blood that gathered around her head and torso and soaked through her white blouse. Yuuri could see the gunshot wound even from where he stood. 

Yuuri breathed deeply, closing his eyes. The sounds became muffled and everything seemed to slow down. Focusing on his heartbeat, he began to imagine.

。。。

It’s a quiet evening. From where he’s standing Yuuri has the perfect view on a house. The light in the dining room is bright and through the half-shut blinds covering the big window he can see her setting a table for some late dinner. The heart is pounding in his chest, even though his breathing doesn’t change in the slightest.

He’s calm… excited… determined. 

It’s time, he thinks, as she turns her head to probably call her husband for the meal. 

Yuuri approaches the front door with long strides and with no hesitation kicks it down. The sound of the alarm resounds in the air almost immediately, piercing and annoying. But he doesn’t let it distract him. 

He raises his head, feeling more than hearing, the husband running down the stairs. The wooden floor vibrates with the heavy steps he’s taking. As soon as the husband appears in his line of sight, Yuuri raises his handgun. 

Two shots. That’s enough to have the man flying backwards and then limply tumbling down the staircase. 

“I shoot Mr Marlow twice, severing jugulars and carotids with near surgical precision. He’ll bleed out watching me take what’s his away from him… This is my design,” Yuuri says to no one in particular.

His eyes narrow, as he turns his head to the left. Despite the alarm, the frantic sobs are even more grating on his ears. He’s certain the woman can barely see him through the tears streaming down her face. For a couple of seconds Yuuri simply watches her pathetic attempt at calling the security company. She kept whimpering, looking from him to the alarm. Her fingers kept slipping off the buttons. 

Yuuri tsk’ed, displeased frown finding its way on his forehead. Enough is enough. 

He stops a couple of feet away from her. Not taking the eyes from her trembling form, he raises his gun and fires.

“I shoot Mrs Marlow expertly through the neck,” Yuuri narrates, watching the blood spilling from the wound, as the woman falls limply onto the hardwood floor. “This is not a fatal wound, but she’s paralysed before the bullet leaves her body.” 

With a soft hum he walks around her, careful not to step into the blood. Her loud sobs are finally gone, not a sound leaves her parted lips. 

“Which doesn’t mean she can’t feel pain,” Yuuri continues, watching her growing paler by the minute. “It just means, she can’t do anything about it… trapped in her body. This is my design,” he adds, tilting his head to the side. 

Yuuri approaches the house alarm and pushes correct buttons decisively. Finally, the alarm is off and he relishes in the silence that replaced it. He looks down at Mrs Marlow and pushes two more buttons. 

“This is DDX Security. Who am I speaking with?”

。。。

Yuuri flinched back to the reality, the buzz of a crime scene overwhelming him for a moment. He regarded the alarm pad, clicking his tongue.

“I need the home security company’s transcript from the time of the incident…?” He said to the random officer who happened to pass him by. He didn’t have to wait long for the documents. 

“This was recorded as a false alarm,” he mutters, looking at the first page. “There was another false alarm… last… week…” He finishes slowly, turning the pages. Yuuri worried his bottom lip, staring ahead with a small frown. 

“He tapped their phone,” he announced with finality, snapping the file closed. 

The confirmation that came from the technician was just a mere formality. 

“He recorded Mrs Marlow’s conversation with the security company…” Yuuri continued, voice barely above the whisper, as he looks down at the body at his feet.

。。。

“This is DDX Security. Who am I speaking with?” The male voice comes from the small speaker.

Yuuri pulls out his phone, the file with recorded conversation from last week ready to be played. He moves it closer to the pad. 

“Theresa Marlow.”

“Can you, please, confirm your password for security purposes?”

“Tea kettle,” the recorded voice says slowly. 

“Thank you, Mrs Marlow,” comes the reply after a brief silence. “We detected a front door alarm…”

“Yeah, sorry about that…”

She recorded voice does sound sorry. He briefly wonders how would have her voice sounded this time around. Yuuri looks down at the motionless body, more and more blood gathering around it. The conversation is the same as it was last week. All he has to do is to mute his recording at proper times. 

“Is there anyone in the house with you at this time, Mrs Marlow?”

“I’m just here with my husband,” she says and Yuuri looks up briefly towards the staircase.

“Do you require any further assistance?” 

“No… thank you so much for calling,” Mrs Marlow says, still a little bit flustered. 

There is a soft click signaling the end of conversation. Yuuri’s eyes gravitate again towards the body, ghost of a smirk playing in the corner of his lips. 

“And this is when it gets truly horrifying for Mrs Marlow…”

  


##### \------------- FBI ACADEMY || QUANTICO, VIRGINIA ------------- 

“At some point in their lives, everyone has thought about killing someone. With more or less personal involvement.”

The auditorium is silent despite every seat being taken by a student. Yuuri stood on the small stage and with a press of a button a picture of transcript behind him changed into the picture of a lifeless body of Mrs Marlow. His voice was clear, but his eyes kept roaming on the surface of a desk. At moments like this he was glad for his nearsightedness. Not wearing glasses was enough for him to blur the students’ faces and somehow lessening the intensity of their stares. 

“Now you think about killing Mrs Marlow. Did she deserve this? Why?” Yuuri fell silent for a moment, keeping his voice even. “What your killing method could tell about you? Tell me your design.” 

Yuuri snapped closed the lid of his laptop and students took it as their cue to leave. They started gathering their things and a soft murmur of hushed conversations filled the spacious lecture hall. 

A movement against the flow of the students in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Yuuri didn’t need more than a fleeting glance to recognise the silhouette of a person who decided to pay him a visit. The hair on the back of his neck were already standing straight. He reached for the papers one by one hoping it would keep his hands from trembling too much. 

“Mr Katsuki,” the man calls out with a slight gruff in his voice, somehow managing to keep its tone amicable and open. Yuuri almost scoffed at that. 

He put on his blue-rimmed glasses, still refusing to acknowledge the presence of another man. It was not an easy task, but he’d congratulate himself on his efforts later. He could feel the intense stare boring into his temple. 

“Special agent Yakov Feltsman. I’m the head of the Behavioral Science Unit,” the man continued, coming up closer to the desk, not deterred by the chilly welcome. He stopped on the other side and stretched out his arm. 

All Yuuri wanted to do today was to quickly wrap up this lecture and go back home to feed and pet his dogs. Instead he had to deal with an intimidating agent who somehow managed to suffocate him with his presence, despite keeping a conversational distance. Yuuri shook his hand, not in the least surprised by the strong grip. 

“I know. We’ve met before”, he said with a sharp nod, letting his glasses slide down his nose a little. 

Yakov was watching him like a prey… or maybe rather like he was a rare exotic animal you see in the zoo and you’re afraid to spook it because it might bolt back into its hiding spot. Yuuri could see the caution with which he was being approached. This fake friendliness. And he couldn’t say he appreciated the charade. No matter the amount of effort Yakov puts into looking nonthreatening, his sharp green eyes always hold some kind of power behind them. 

“Yes, we’ve had a disagreement,” he said as if they just bumped into each other on the campus. “When we opened the museum.”

“I disagreed with how you’ve named it,” Yurri scoffed with distaste, deciding to play along. 

“The, uh… _Evil Minds Research Museum_?” Yakov supplied, still seemingly unbothered by anything. “What’s wrong with that? It’s simple… gets the point across…”

“It’s a little hammy, don’t you think, Yakov?”

Yakov smiled indulgently, but other than that didn’t respond to the obvious taunt. There was a brief moment of silence, where Yakov grabbed the pilot and went through a couple of more slides on the white screen. Yuuri stood on the other side, muscles tense with anticipation. 

“So you’ve decided to hitch your horse to a teaching post… And I also understand it’s hard for you to be social.” Yakov leaned forward, stubbornly trying to catch his eyes. 

“It’s not like I’m listening to what they’re saying. I’m just talking at them. It’s not social,” Yuuri said, his voice trembling slightly. He fleetingly glanced at Yakov over the blue rim of his glasses. Then his eyes returned to the far corner of the room, trying to look anywhere else but the person in front of him. 

Yuuri knew the mechanics of how to hold a friendly conversation well enough to deliberately ignore most of it and keep it to the bare minimum. But the way Yakov kept pushing into his personal space, green eyes following even the tiniest movement on his part, made his presence suffocating.

“May I?” He asked, already reaching his hand toward Yuuri’s face.

Yuuri bit the inside of his lower lip, barely containing his want to recoil from the touch. Even when Yakov pushed the glasses up his nose, he kept looking sideways. 

“Where do you fall on the spectrum?”

“My horse is hitched to the post that’s closer to Asperger’s and autistic than narcissists and sociopaths,” Yuuri snapped, throwing Yakov’s metaphor back at him. 

“But you can empathise with narcissists and sociopaths,” Yakov insisted, observing as Yuuri hastily was finishing his packing. 

“I can empathise with anybody,” Yuuri scoffed, not even bothering to look up. He just wanted to go back home to his dogs. Was he asking for too much? “It’s more of an active imagination kinda thing than a personality disorder.”

Just as Yuuri was ready to grab his bag and walk out of the auditorium, Yakov leaned forward, putting his hand on the bag, pressing it down to the counter. Yuuri felt his breath hitch. He licked his lips nervously. This time he met Yakov’s gaze straight on. 

“Can I borrow your imagination?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited.. bc i forgot the whole section... jfc I need some sleep =_=

The campus quad was teeming with life, full of people either basking in the warmth of the late summer sun or rushing to their next class. It was a really nice day. Yuuri wished he could appreciate it fully. 

“Eight boys abducted from eight different Minnesota campuses… all in the last eight months.”

But it was safe to say that it wasn’t going to happen. 

“I thought there were seven,” Yuuri replied with a small frown. 

“There _were_.” 

“When did you tag the newest one?”

“About three minutes before I walked into your lecture,” Yakov grumbled in a somber voice, running a hand through his thinning grey hair. 

They rounded the corner and walked up the small staircase leading to the main building. Yuuri kept staring ahead. The frustration radiating from the agent was suffocating. 

“You say ‘abducted’... you didn’t find any bodies?” 

“No bodies, no nothing”, Yakov almost growled, jaw clenched just as his fists he’d been hiding in the pockets of his suit pants. 

“Then those boys weren’t taken from where you think they were taken,” Yuuri snaps with a roll of his eyes. 

“Then where were they taken from?” Yakov asked, falling a step behind Yuuri. 

“I don’t know. Some place else.”

Surely he didn’t need Yuuri to state the obvious. He wasn’t _that_ dense of a man. Yakov was the head of the institute, for crying out loud. It must have meant something, right? He landed in this position because of his intellect and accomplishments, not because of a pretty face. 

Yuuri wanted to scream. 

Instead he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. 

“All of them abducted on Friday. That way they won’t be reported missing until Monday,” Yakov continued, after the elevator’s door slide open. They stepped out into much less crowded corridor. “So however he’s doing it, it’s safe to assume he needs a weekend to cover up his tracks.” Yakov stopped in front of his office, inviting Yuuri inside with a nod. 

Yuuri fumbled in place, but in the end crossed the threshold. The first thing that caught his eye was a huge pin board with a detailed map of Minnesota and fragments of neighbouring states. Small pieces of blue paper tagged the campuses the boys were supposedly taken from. To the other end of a string that started by the blue squares pictures of the victims were attached. It was hard to discern any kind of pattern that would help with finding the killer’s base. 

“Number eight?” Yuuri asked, after being handed a photo that wasn’t yet attached to the board. 

“Justin Nichols. St. Cloud State University. As the previous victims, he also disappeared on Friday. Was supposed to house sit for his parents for the weekend, feed the cat. Never made it home.”

Yuuri took off his glasses, still staring at the picture. He hummed quietly. 

“Hmm, one through seven are dead, don’t you think? He’s not keeping them around. Otherwise, why would he get himself a new one?” 

“So we focus on Justin Nichols,” Yakov stated, watching him closely and waiting for his confirmation. 

Yuuri looked at the photos on the board and the one he was holding in his hands. The resemblance all of the victims shared was indisputable. 

“They could’ve been mistaken for a family,” Yuuri mumbled absently, pinning Justin’s photo to the board himself. 

“And yet that’s not what they have in common.”

Yuuri nodded. All of the boys had the same green eyes and blond hair. Quick look at the files attached at the bottom of the board told him that they were roughly the same age, height, even weight. That certainly was a pattern, but it still wasn’t enough. 

“What is it about all of these boys?” 

“It’s not about all of them,” Yuuri said quietly, trying to put his jumbled thoughts into proper words. “It’s about _one_ of them. He’s like… like Willy Wonka. Every boy he takes is a chocolate bar, amongst which is hidden one true intended victim who is, if we follow the metaphor, your golden ticket.”

“So is he prepping for his golden ticket or just reliving whatever it is he did to him?” Yakov asked, sharp eyes skimming over the board. 

“The golden ticket wouldn’t be the first taken. And he wouldn’t be the last. He’s special in that way.” 

Deeming the consultation over, Yuuri turned around and grabbed his bag from the sofa. He was a couple of steps away from the door when he heard Yakov’s voice. 

“I want you to get closer to this.” 

It sounded like an order not an option to consider if he was being honest. Yuuri flinched, brain already coming up with an excuse. He _really_ wanted to get back home. 

“No, Yakov. I’m just a dime a dozen…” Yuuri drifted off because he could already see that this train of thought won’t be helpful. If Yakov’s doubtful and steady gaze was any indication. “You have Heimlich at Harvard. And Nishigori at Georgetown. They are far better qualified for the job and do the same thing I do.”

 _You don’t need to involve me in this!_ Yuuri wanted to yell at him, inching closer toward the exit. 

Yakov took a small step closer to him, shoulders squared. His one look was enough to pin Yuuri to the spot. He didn’t even dare to move a muscle. 

“That’s not exactly true, is it?” Yakov pressed, advancing further towards him. “You have a very specific way of thinking about things.”

“Has there been a lot of discussion about my _specific_ way of thinking?” Yuuri couldn’t help but scoff with a derisive smile. 

“You make jumps you can’t explain, Yuuri,” Yakov said, carefully choosing his words. 

“Oh, no. No.” Yuuri shook his head, one hand gripping tightly his bag. “The evidence explains.” 

“Then help me find some evidence.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. Did this man have a counter-argument to his every excuse? He could already feel Yakov’s claws sinking into him with a clear intention of not letting go. He swallowed thickly, grudgingly admitting his defeat. 

“That may require me to be sociable…” Yuuri whispered, refusing to meet Yakov’s eyes. 

But he didn’t need to look to know they flashed with steely satisfaction.

  


#### \------------- DULLUTH, MINNESOTA ------------- 

It took them over 4 hours to reach the Nichols’ house. Yakov stood in the dining room entrance, while Yuuri looked carefully through the photos perched on the cabinet in the corner. Mr and Mrs Nichols were sitting at the table, looking between him and the agent with more or less visible levels of distress. 

The visit surprised them. At the beginning they were really hoping to hear the good news. Something along the lines of _We’ve found your son. He’s fine, recovering in the nearest hospital. The kidnapper has been caught_. They already told the questioning officers earlier today everything they knew. 

“He could’ve gone off by himself,” Mr Nichols said, trying with all his might to hold on hope. Mrs Nichols nodded eagerly behind him, bloodshot eyes glistening with unshed tears. “He likes being on his own. Living in the dorm with so many strangers might have gotten to him. I could see how that and the pressure of school…”

Mr Nichols drifted off, taking in a shuddering breath. Yakov was silent, hands folded neatly in front of him. A steady presence in their crumbling world. The use of present tense was not lost on him. There was nothing worse than facing distraught parents, still hoping, while you were certain there was nothing left to hope for. He glanced at Yuuri who still remained silent, focused on the photos.

“He likes trains,” Mr Nichols started anew, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “Maybe he just got on the train and…”

Mrs Nichols shook her head, picking on the skin around her already bitten fingernails. 

“He… he looks like the other boys,” she stated, violent shiver running down her spine. 

“Yes, he fits the profile,” Yakov replied with a slow nod. 

“Could Justin be still alive?”

Yakov sighed quietly. They were working on pure assumptions. And he knew that general answers won’t be enough here. But the cotton swabs and other materials clean of every trace of their son or any other useful material whatsoever, refused to be of any help. They had no physical evidence to latch on. Nothing that could lead to a breakthrough in this investigation. 

“We simply have no certain way of knowing.” Yakov said diplomatically. 

“How’s the cat?” Yuuri broke the heavy silence with a seemingly random question. 

“What?” Mr Nichols choked out, as his wife shifted her wide-eyed stare to him. 

Due to their emotional turmoil caused by recent events, they didn’t know whether they should be offended by the brash tone or not. Yuuri turned away from the cabinet and faced them. 

“How’s your cat,” he repeated. “Justin was supposed to feed it.”

Yakov scowled at him, apology already forming and ready to leave his chapped lips. However, he was also curious where Yuuri was going with this. He decided to stay silent for a little longer. 

“Was the cat weird when you came home?” Yuuri blinked rapidly, shaking his head. He needed an answer and The Nichols’ were only looking at him with mouths agape. That wasn’t helpful. He breathed deeply, feeling Yakov’s intense stare. “It must’ve been hungry. It had nothing to eat for the entire weekend,” Yuuri clarified, stumbling slightly over his words.

“I… I didn’t notice,” Mr Nichols said in the end, after exchanging confused glances with his wife. 

Yuuri only nodded, lips forming a thin line. His adam’s apple bobbed viciously, as he shot Yakov a quick look.

“Could you give us a moment, please?” Yakov said in a composed voice, even managing to smile reassuringly. 

The Nichols’ agreed mutely, reaching for each other’s hands and gripping tightly. 

Yakov rubbed his forehead trying to smooth down the deep wrinkle that now seemed to have been permanently carved between his eyebrows. The men walked a couple of feet away. 

“He took him from here,” Yuuri whispered, licking his lips. Yakov was still watching him intensely, still unconvinced. “He… He got on the train, got home, fed the cat.” He stole a brief glance at the man’s face. “He took him…” Yuuri choked on the rest of the sentence, bowing his head. 

Yakov nodded, taking in a deep breath. Now that it had been pointed out to him, it was impossible to unsee. They should’ve been able to make that connection earlier. With a heavy exhale he took out his phone and dialed the number to the headquarters

“The Nichols’ house is a crime scene,” he announced, voice steady and full of authority. 

Mrs Nichols gasped faintly, tears spilling onto the pale cheeks. She hid her face in her hands, the lithe frame shaking. Mr Nichols clenched his jaw, putting an arm around his wife. 

“I need ERT immediately. I want Babicheva, Chulanont, and Seung-gil Lee. Yes, and a photographer.”

“Why is it now a crime scene?” Mr Nichols growled out weakly. 

And once again Yakov had no straight answer. He could only look at them apologetically as he finished up the call. 

“Can I see your son’s room?” Yuuri asked, hair falling into his eyes as he turned towards them. 

Mr Nichols glared at him, almost ready to throw punches, but the shaky hand on the forearm calmed him down considerably. He looked up at the older man, partially resigned, partially confused. 

_How many times do we have to go through this…_

 

“The police were up here this morning,” Mr Nichols murmured shakily, following Yuuri up the stairs. 

Justin’s room was just at the end of a narrow corridor. Yuuri looked around carefully, as he put on his latex gloves. The cat, he had been inquiring about earlier, was there, scratching at the bottom of the door, meowing softly. Yuuri frowned, a shiver run down his spine. 

“No!” He almost yelled, quickly grabbing Mr Nichols when he tried to open the room. “I’ll get that. Mr Nichols, please, put your hands in your pockets and avoid touching anything,” he recited. 

“But we’ve been in and out of here all day…” Mr Nichols said, even more disorientated than before. 

“You can hold the cat if it’s easier.”

They both looked down at the animal which adamantly tried to scratch its way into the bedroom. It meowed in protest at being picked up, but soon settled in the owner’s arms. Once the animal was out of the way, Yuuri turned the knob and stepped inside. 

The room was dark, lit only by the faint light coming from the corridor. Immediately after they entered their eyes fell on the bed. It wasn’t empty. Justin was lying there on his back, tucked under the covers. 

“Justin…!” Mr Nichols breathed, a relieved smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

In his burst of happiness, he was readily marching towards the bed, only to be blocked by Yuuri. 

“I need you to leave the room,” Yuuri demands, squeezing his shoulders and pushing him backwards little by little. 

Mr Nichols scowled at him, refusing to budge from his spot. His baby boy was just there, back in his bed, sleeping peacefully. How dare this unkempt stranger order him to leave?!

But when he looked over Yuuri’s shoulder, he noticed his son was unnaturally pale even in the poor lighting. The painful reality began to sink in. He let out a broken whimper. His boy’s chest wasn’t moving as it was supposed to, not even the slightest twitch. 

The man’s arms fell limply along his sides, cat landing gracefully on the floor. Now he knew why the cat wasn’t nowhere in sight. 

When Yuuri pushed back again and Mr Nichols gripped his arms for support, slumping against him. Yuuri tried his best not to flinch away. He relaxed slightly, seeing Yakov looming at the end of the corridor. 

 

If Yakov was surprised by this turn of events, it didn’t show. 

“When you ready to talk, you talk. If you don’t feel like it, you don’t talk,” he stated matter-of-factly. “We’ll be downstairs. You let me know when you’re ready for us to come in.”

And with that Yuuri was left alone. He stared at the plain wall in front of him, familiar feeling of dread creeping up his spine. 

After a couple of minutes had passed, he once again found himself in Justin’s bedroom. The balcony window was cracked open, the curtain swayed in the light breeze. Looking out of it he could see paramedics already taking care of the Nichols’. The police cars gathered outside, the officers securing the area around the house. The commotion combined with flashes of red and blue lured a more nosy neighbours out of their homes despite the late hour. 

Yuuri sat down on the small balcony adjacent to the room. He rubbed his gloved hands together, looking apprehensively at the dead body still on the bed. He breathed deeply the chilly night air and closed his eyes, focusing on his heartbeat. 

And he imagined.

。。。

Getting into the house was easy.

He looks down at the peacefully sleeping form of a boy. Justin’s lips were parted slightly, soft snores escaping with every exhale. The blond mane of hair creates an ethereal halo around his head, as he tilted it slightly.

It is that minute movement that triggers him. Yuuri pounces. He sinks his body weight on the boy’s thighs, successfully immobilising him. His hands go straight for the neck, squeezing so hard his fingers turn white.

Justin doesn’t even have a chance to scream. 

His gorgeous green eyes bulge out, locked on his attacker. His hands wrap themselves around Yuuri’s wrists, but there is no real strength behind it. It’s more of a reflex than anything. 

Yuuri squeezes tighter, digging his fingers deeper into the soft skin. The boy’s face begins to take on a lovely shade of purple…

。。。

“You’re Yuuri Katsuki.”

Yuuri was brought back violently to the reality by an unknown male voice. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest, as he struggled even out his breath. 

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” he stammered, his whole body trembling. 

He whipped his head around, carefully avoiding the newcomer; later he learned his name to be Phichit Chulanont. Yuuri was still processing the fact that he was standing at the foot of the bed instead of sitting on a small balcony. 

“You wrote the standard monograph on time of death by insect activity,” the agent continued, his dark eyes shining with excitement. “I found antler velvet in two of the wounds,” he announced, clearly proud of his findings. “You’re… uh… _not_ real FBI?” Phichit asked, when after the quick look-over he didn’t notice any badge. 

“I’m a… special investigator…” Yuuri replied with difficulty. He winced, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

“Never been an FBI agent?” The other asked, eyebrows climbing high up the forehead. 

“Uhm..” Yuuri frowned, startled by the intensity of his stare. He focused on getting his next words out. “Strict… screening procedures,” he whispered, feeling his throat constrict uncomfortably. 

“Detects instability,” Phichit supplied immediately. “You unstable?” He asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet, sounding more curious than offensive. 

“Hey, you know you’re not supposed to be here, Chulanont.”

Yakov stepped into the room, followed by two more people - Mila Babicheva and Seung-gil Lee. Yuuri remained silent. Chewing on his lip, he stepped away and moved towards the balcony window. 

“I found an antler velvet in two of the wounds,” Phichit repeated, ignoring the scolding tone of his supervisor. “Like he was gorged or something… I was looking for it in the other wounds… but I was interrupted,” he added, throwing Yuuri another wide-eyed, curious glance. 

“Wait, hold on, excuse me,” Mila interrupted, raising her gloved hand. She was scowling with one eyebrow raised elegantly. “Look, deer and elk _pin_ their prey, okay? They put all their weight into their antlers, try to suffocate their victims…”

Yuuri turned slightly from the window, listening to her words. Something didn’t add up. 

“That’s how they would kill like a fox… or a coyote,” she added, waving her arm. 

“Well, Justin Nichols was strangled, suffocated, his ribs are broken…” Yakov said in a gruff voice, nodding along. 

“Antler velvet is rich in nutrients. It actually promotes healing,” Yuuri chimed in, his voice still holding a slight tremble. “He may have put it in on purpose.”

“You think he was trying to heal him?” Yakov asked with a small frown. 

“He wanted to undo as much as he could… given that he already killed him.”

“He put him back where he found him…”

Something like that had never happened before. Now they had some material to work with, which was at least a little bit helpful. Yakov was running out of ideas. Hell, he didn’t have any ideas. There was to hoping that the killer overlooked something during his cleaning that’d help them identify him.

“Whatever he did to the others, he couldn’t do it to him,” Yuuri mused out loud. 

“Is _this_ his golden ticket?”

“No,” Yuuri replied firmly. There was no room for discussion here. “This is an apology.” All of people present lifted their heads to look directly at him.. He tensed under this sudden attention. “Does anyone have any aspirin?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay... finally forced myself to write "something" (￣ ￣|||) *sigh*  
> Why does my brain has to have this "you either write everything today or nothing at all" thing going on? That weird blob of neurons... get your shit together! (」°ロ°)」
> 
> Anyway, here's the next chapter n_n
> 
> Please, enjoy~! ^-^

#### \------------- WOLF TRAP, VIRGINIA -------------

The flight back was quiet and uneventful. To his surprise Yakov didn’t protest too much when Yuuri left the crime scene as soon as he gave his assessment. Even though he could feel the exhaustion creeping up on him, his mind refused to slow down, running thousand miles per hour. 

With a deep sigh he plopped down onto the car seat, swallowing the rest of his aspirin. The headache, not entirely gone, was now reduced to a constant throbbing behind his tired eyes. Turning the ignition on, the car grumbled to life, seemingly offended at being put to use. 

“Me too, buddy,” Yuuri mumbled, patting the steering wheel. He also wasn’t looking forward to the one hour drive in the middle of the night. 

The road stretched on, monotone and lifeless. That’s why Yuuri squinted behind the glasses, when the movement on the roadside caught his attention. A big, shaggy poodle trotted along the road, thick rope trailing behind it.

“Hello…” Yuuri called out softly, slowing down his volvo to match the dog’s pace. He stuck his head out of the window, small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Despite being in the middle of nowhere, he still looked ahead from time to time to make sure he didn’t drove off the road. 

The dog was dirty. It was probably roaming around these woods for quite some time. The dead leaves were stuck to his tabby fur, some of it was glued together with mud. 

“Hey…” Yuuri pouted, when the dog ignored him and started to run. 

He pressed the gas pedal, easily overtaking the canine. He stopped the car, blocking off the road. With the lights still on, he got out and waited patiently for the dog to catch up. When that happened, the animal looked at him curiously, keeping its distance. Yuuri patted his thigh, slouching slightly, and cooing at the dog. But just as he made a move towards it, the dog bolted away. 

Yuuri sighed, rubbing his neck tiredly. The night was already way too long for him. He didn’t want to give up on the dog so easily. Yuuri didn’t notice any tag, as if the heavy rope around its neck wasn’t enough of a red flag. He couldn’t be expected to just leave it there. With another heavy sigh he decided to drive on, keeping a watchful eye on the roadsides. 

The same situation repeated itself two more times, before he finally stopped in the small bay on the edge of the woods. The hazard lights blinked sluggishly as he opened the trunk of his car. Yuuri opened the bag of dog treats - the better ones this time - and sat down, waiting for the smell to waft towards the dog. 

It approached his outstretched hand, snout moving as it sniffed the air. Yuuri couldn’t help but smile, as he tried to keep his hand as steady as possible. The poodle skipped up closer, his body trembling from taut muscles. He was ready to flee at any moment if necessary. 

“Hey, puppy…” He cooed, when the dog snatched the treat from his hand. It backed away a couple of feet, but didn’t try to run away too far. Yuuri counted it as a small win. 

He smiled every time he felt wet tongue lick at his palm. And after a couple of more attempts, he could run his hand through matted curls. Without any problem the dog jumped into the trunk and Yuuri couldn’t be any more impatient to get back home. 

 

The stray stayed in the car while Yuuri got into his house to prepare everything for the bath and introduction to the rest of his pack. The excitable bunch missed him dearly if the barrage of sloppy kisses was anything to go by. After he showered them with the sufficient amount - in his opinion; those greedy balls of fur always wanted more - of hugs and belly rubs, he left them inside despite low whines and barks. 

Yuuri filled the big metal basin with warm water and after some coaxing the bathing began. Once he carefully poured the water over its fur, the dog didn’t squirm much and Yuuri couldn’t help but coo what a good boy it was. He rubbed the dirt away from the fur, frowning in deep concentration. 

He carefully looked the wet animal over, watching out for any leftover dirt. When he didn’t find any, he dried the dog with a towel and then a hairdryer. For the whole time just his arm was enough to keep it still. 

Yuuri put the new addition to the big cage lined with fluffy blankets. As he fixed himself a drink, he let the rest of the dogs out. They gathered curiously around him, sniffing the air. 

“Makkachin,” Yuuri said in an official tone of voice, taking a slow sip and letting the fluid burn down his throat. The poodle looked at him with his dark beady eyes, tilting its head. “This is everybody. Everybody, this is Makkachin.” 

 

It was still dark outside when Yuuri woke up with a violent start, drenched in sweat. The bed linen was ruined and so were his clothes. He couldn’t exactly remember what he had dreamt about, the only thing vivid in his memory were glassy green eyes and white pyjamas soaked with blood. 

His limbs felt as if they were made of lead when he sluggishly got out of bed to fetch some spare towels. He couldn’t be bothered to change the sheets. He trembled, taking off his t-shirt and discarding it onto the floor. Yuuri took another big towel and draped it over his body, curling into a fetal position. He screwed his eyes shut, willing himself to fall back into a dreamless sleep.

  


* * *

  


The next day Yakov was back in his office standing in front of the pinboard and torn between pulling even more of his hair out or punching a hole in the wall. Despite having Justin Nichols’ body, they weren’t any closer to catching the criminal. They still had nothing. Most of the tests were still in progress and Yakov cursed his inability to quicken it.

He growled, testing the wall’s durability with his fist. 

Solid. 

With jaw clenched tight, he stormed out of his office. He needed to find Katsuki and get something more feasible out of him. Yakov felt he hadn’t told him everything at the Nichols’ place. 

Yakov found him in one of the bathrooms close to his lecture hall, drying his face off with a paper towel. 

“What are you doing in here?” He demanded, stalking up closer to him. 

Yuuri turned around, almost rolling his eyes. 

“I enjoy the smell of urinal cake,” he retorted, keeping his voice even, as he dried off his hands. 

“Me too. We need to talk,” Yakov said. “ _ **USE THE LADIES’ ROOM!**_ ” He roared, noticing another agent walking into the bathroom. 

_Well, he certainly doesn’t need to use one now_ , Yuuri thought, hoping he misheard the small whimper as the agent basically ran out of the room. Although the terrified expression on his face was hard to miss. 

_Poor thing._

Yuuri gripped the sink, as Yakov walked in front of him to and fro. He didn’t dare to meet the steady stare the other was providing him with. He could feel the frustration rolling off of the man in suffocating waves.

“You respect my judgement, Yuuri?” He asked, voice surprisingly calm after the previous outburst. 

“Mhmm… yes…” Yuuri muttered in response, licking his lips. 

“Good.” Yakov nodded curtly. “Because we stand a better chance of catching this guy with you in the saddle.” 

_What is it with Yakov and all those horse metaphors recently?_ Yuuri thought absently. 

“Yeah, I’m in the saddle,” Yuuri agreed, masking the shaking of his head with a clumsy nod. “I’m just… uhmm… confused which direction I’m pointing,” he gritted through clenched teeth. 

Yuuri could feel himself growing more and more anxious. The unimpressed huff from Yakov and derisive half-smile didn’t help curbing it down. Apparently his answer was the wrong one. 

“I don’t know this kind of psychopath,” Yuuri continued, voice shaking. The dark green eyes bore into him impassively. “I’ve never read about him. I don’t even know if he’s a psychopath! He doesn’t fit the profile… he’s not insensitive… he’s not shallow.”

“You know something about him,” Yakov said slowly, his voice acquiring a growling undertone to it. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have said ‘this is an apology’. What is he apologising for?” He pressed further.

“He... He couldn’t honour him,” Yuuri said, stumbling over his words. “He feels bad.” He started fidgeting in place, agitated. 

“Well, feeling bad defeats the purpose of being a psychopath, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does!” Yuuri yelled out in frustration, the condescending tone being too much at this moment.

“Then what kind of crazy is he?!” Yakov hollered.

The moment of silence that followed made it difficult to focus. Yuuri breathed deeply, gathering his scattered thoughts as best as he could. 

“He couldn’t show him he loved him, so he put the boy back where he killed him,” Yuuri explained carefully, deciding to start from the beginning. “Whatever crazy that is.”

“You think he loves those boys?” Yakov asked, face scrunched in barely contained disgust. 

Yuuri huffed, rubbing his damp forehead with his equally damp hand. 

“He loves one of them… and yes, by association he feels some form of love for the others,” Yuuri spat, wishing for this conversation to be over. 

“There was no semen. There was no saliva,” Yakov reeled off, voice hard, and his eyes even harder. 

Yuuri shook his head violently, anger welling inside him at being so immensely misunderstood. He had been speaking English the entire time, hadn’t he? How was Yakov not getting that?! He thought his interpretation was pretty straightforward and obvious. And yet, the man standing in front of him like a statue kept veering off in a totally wrong direction. 

“That’s not how he’s loving them, Yakov! He wouldn’t disrespect them that way!!” Yuuri screamed gripping the edge of the counter until his knuckles turned white. That man kept looking at him as if he had the power to look at the case and immediately point out the culprit. “He kills them quickly. He doesn’t want these boys to suffer. So in his thinking he’s being...” Yuuri stopped for a breath when a thought occurred to him ”...merciful in that regard.”

Yuuri turned around, trembling and hoping Yakov would leave him alone. But he kept on standing three feet away from him, hands folded neatly in front of him. 

“Sensitive psychopath,” Yakov said with a wonder in his voice. He seemed much calmer now. He nodded slowly, getting accustomed to the thought. “He risked getting caught so he could tuck Justin Nichols back into bed.”

“He has to take the next boy soon. Leaving a body behind like that? He’s smart. He knows that’s gonna get him caught… one way or the other.”

  


#### \------------- FBI ACADEMY, QUANTICO, VIRGINIA ------------- 

Dr Yuuko Nishigori knew that Yakov Feltsman appearing in her lecture hall was not a good sign. She’d heard enough of hushed whispers around the campus to help her prepare for this ambush. 

“Katsuki likes you,” Yakov said with a friendly lilt to his usually grumpy voice. She would have found it adorable if it wasn’t used on her. “Doesn’t think you’ll run any mind games on him.” 

It was another sunny day as they walked side by side through the quad. Yuuko’s high heels clicked delicately on the concrete path. 

“I don’t,” she replied, shooting Yakov a sideways glance. “I’m as honest with him as I’d be with a patient.”

“You’ve been observing him while you’ve been guest-lecturing here at the academy, yes?” 

Yuuko sighed quietly. Almost ten minutes of irrelevant chit-chat and he finally got to the heart of the matter. The hand that held the jacket and the laptop bag tightened its hold on the items. 

“I’ve never been in a room alone with Yuuri,” she decided on saying after a brief silence. 

“Why not?” 

“Because I want to be his friend. And I am.” 

“Ah, it seems like such a waste not to take advantage of that… Academically speaking,” Yakov added, hiding his hands in his suit pants. The carefully crafted friendly smile in place, as he watched her every reaction. 

“You already asked me to do a study on him, Yakov,” Yuuko said with exasperation, stopping in place to face him. “I said no. Nothing’s changed in that regard. Besides, anything academical on Yuuri Katsuki would have to be published posthumously,” she added. Yakov probably heard that enough times already, but if he was so set on playing clueless, Yuuko would gladly indulge him. 

“So, you’ve never been alone with him because you have _a professional curiosity_ about him,” Yakov stated, raising an eyebrow. 

_The subtlety truly befitting the Head of The Behavioral Science Unit… or an elephant in a china shop… not that there was much difference at the moment._ Yuuko couldn’t stop the amused smile from blooming on her face. 

“Normally I wouldn’t even broach this,” she started, every trace of the humour vanishing from her face, “but what do you think Yuuri’s strongest drive is?”

Yuuko watched him intensely, as Yakov crossed his arms with a self-assured look on his face. 

“Fear?” Yakov shrugged sloppily, looking down at her. “Yuuri Katsuki deals with huge amounts of fear,” he continued after she hummed in confirmation. “It comes with his imagination.”

He barely stopped himself from saying _obviously_ that’s dangling at the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t an amateur. 

“It’s _the price_ of imagination,” Yuuko corrected, fixing him with a hard gaze. 

“Yuuko, I wouldn’t put him out there if I didn’t think I could cover him,” Yakov said, seeing the time for pleasantries was over. 

She only raised an eyebrow as if saying _You can bullshit your subordinates like that, not me, Feltsman._

“All right!” He relented with a huff. “If I didn’t think I could cover him eighty percent.”

“I wouldn’t put him out there!” She snapped. 

Yakov wanted her professional opinion. He got it. But her disapproval was not something he needed from her right now. And no amount of glaring with her deep brown eyes would change his decision. No matter how impressive. 

“Well, he’s out there. I need him out there.” 

“You’ve been doing just fine without him _out there_ , Yakov. What’s changed. Is your age catching up with you?” 

Yuuko was perfectly aware that this jab was more than immature, but she couldn’t help it. The frustration accumulated from this interaction needed some outlet. And Yakov was a big boy. He could take it. Especially that he was the one responsible for its existence in the first place. 

However, she could perfectly understand, why Yakov would go to her with the request of taking care of Yuuri’s mental state while he’s being introduced to working in the field. There were a great many of psychiatrists that would go to any length to get a publication out of it, posthumous publication copyrights be damned. And as well as she, Yakov was also aware of that. 

“Should he get too close, I need _you_ to make sure he’s not out there alone,” he continued, ignoring her words. 

“Yakov…” She sighed deeply. 

“Why won’t you do it?”

“I already told you.” 

“But that’s not the main reason, is it?” 

This time it was Yuuko’s turn to ignore his words. 

“I know you’re reluctant to ask somebody else for that.” Yakov grumbled something unintelligible under his nose. “But I know a psychiatrist I can honestly recommend. He’s currently residing in Baltimore. I can send you his contact details after I’m done with this next lecture.” 

Yakov hummed, deeply in thought. Maybe someone unaffiliated with Yuuri could give a better insight. And if Nishigori trusts them, it might be worth a shot. He nodded. 

“Don’t let him get too close, Yakov” she said as a goodbye, fending off the unpleasant shudder creeping up her spine.

  


* * *

  


Mila, Phichit, and Seung-gil gathered around the examination table, serene expressions marring their features. Seung-gil unzipped the black body bag with a thoughtful hum, revealing Justin Nichols’ corpse. 

Yuuri stood further to the side, arms crossed, definitely _not_ sulking. He really didn’t understand what good his presence would be for down there. He’d been telling Yakov he had qualified people working on the case. But he assumed that in this instance, the more heads present to brainstorm the better. Especially that all they had at their disposal was a thoroughly cleaned up body and some tiny scrap of metal. 

“Okay… I tried his skin for prints and of course there was nothing,” Seung-gil said with a frown. “We did get a handspread off her neck… but that doesn’t give us much. It’s just there.”

“What about his nails? You could take a fingerprint off that, right?” Phichit asked. 

“Very small chances of that in general.”

“Besides, fingernails were smudged when we took the scraping from under them. Which, predictably, didn’t give us anything useful. We found only his own DNA. He never scratched him,” Mila ended with a weary huff. 

“So that piece of metal is the only thing we’ve got.” 

“We should be looking at plumbers, steamfitters, tool workers…,” Yuuri chimed in, figuring if he had to be there, he might as well contribute. 

Even though Yuuri was still angry with Yakov about that _interrogation_ in the bathroom, work was work. And nobody liked a psychopath running freely around. Especially one that didn’t exactly fit the mold. 

The brief moment of silence caught Yuuri exhaling slowly as he stared into the blackness created by the fold of the body bag. It pulled him in. The sounds around became muffled as if he’d gone underwater. 

His eyes glossed over when he noticed Justin hanging motionlessly in the darkness like a ragdoll with no strings attached. And then came the antlers, piercing through his body so smoothly he didn’t even have a mind to be startled or disturbed by this imagery. The blood began to spread evenly on the white nightshirt, liquid glistening even in the place with no light, dripping down the pale legs. 

Yuuri twitched in his spot, being brought back to the reality by the pain of his blunt nails digging into his forearms. 

“...other injuries are suspected to be caused post mortem.” Yuuri caught Mila’s last words, as she leafed through the report. “But we’re not hundred percent sure. So, not gored.”

“He has lots of piercings that look like they were caused by deer antlers. I didn’t say the deer was responsible for putting them there, Mila,” Phichit snapped, the frustration getting momentarily better of him. 

He ran a hand down his face, as Mila raised her in defence. To think that they only had a scrape of metal and a murderous herbivore roaming the neighbouring woods. Ridiculous. But as good of a theory as any at this point. 

“He was mounted on them,” Yuuri said and their heads snapped in his direction. “Like hooks. He may have been bled,” he added, throat bobbing with a heavy swallow. 

“His liver was removed,” Seung-gil said. 

“Wait, hang on a second,” Mila interrupted hastily, putting her gloved hands inside the body to inspect the liver. She clicked his tongue noticing the unnatural arrangement of the organ. The main arteries had been severed. “Yep, he put it back in.” 

“Huh… why would he do that?” Seung-gil asked, puzzled. “Cut it out only to sew it back in? Seems counterproductive.” 

_Oh, God, no…_ , Yuuri exhaled shakily. 

“Something’s wrong with the meat,” he said out loud, bile rising in his throat. He _really_ didn’t like where this was going. 

Mila put her hands inside again, feeling the liver. She didn’t have to look long to find a hardened and rough fragment of tissue. 

“He has liver cancer,” Mila announces, looking amazed at Yuuri.

In the minute moment of silence that occurred, the realisation sank in and Yuuri's knees almost gave up under him. Hollow smile stretched his mouth, but that didn’t prevent them from trembling. 

“He’s…” Yuuri licked his lips nervously, staring into the open chest cavity. “He’s eating them.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's here (ﾉ◕♡◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the part I was the most excited about... and then when I finally got to it, I choked and I choked hard...  
> But here we are, crisis buried deep _deep_ down as I hope it turned out well enough and I didn't butcher my fav boys too much n_n''
> 
> Please, be gentle with me ^-^

####  \------------- Baltimore, Maryland -------------

“Please…”

The pathetic whimpers carried around the dimly lit room. Floor length curtains swayed in the light breeze, as Viktor sat comfortably in his plush chair, legs crossed. The dark haired man was reaching towards him, arm outstretched and shaking with effort. His blotchy cheeks were stained with tears that kept on flowing. 

Viktor indulged himself in observation a moment longer. A truly pitiful sight. He reached for the tissue box with a slow and deliberate movement. Without changing his position he extended his arm. 

“Thank you, doctor,” the patient whispered, tumbling to the edge of his seat to pluck out two tissues. “I hate being this neurotic,” he added, drying his eyes and blowing his nose, as Viktor put the box back on the small glass table to his right. 

With his hands folded neatly in his lap, he watched as the used up tissue landed carelessly on the pristine glass tabletop next to his patient. The man was sniffling, looking down at his knees, totally unaware of the peeved look of bright blue eyes of the man opposite. 

“If you weren’t neurotic, Georgi, you would be something much worse,” Viktor said evenly, tongue curling around the ‘r’ carrying a soft accent. The man nodded distractedly, turning the other tissue between his shaky fingers. “Our brain is designed to experience anxiety in short bursts, not the prolonged duress yours has seemed to enjoy.” He jotted down some notes, silver hair falling over the left eye. “That’s why you feel as if a lion was on the verge of devouring you,” he stated, as Georgi watched him intently, drinking up every word. Despite calming down just a second ago, he broke into wet sobs again. “Georgi.”

“Yes?” Came the immediate choked out response. 

“You have to convince yourself the lion is not in the room,” Viktor said. The confidence in his voice made Georgi jerk his head, a mix of nod and shake. He exhaled, wishing he’d be able to do that as easily as the doctor made it sound to be. “When it is, I assure you,” he continued, keeping a steady gaze on his patient, “you will know,” he finished, leaning towards him, supportive smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Viktor stepped away from Georgi, returning to his desk to take final notes of this session, as he gave him space to calm down on his own. Ragged breathes died down a little bit quicker this time around, which he considered to be an improvement. After making arrangements for the next appointment, he led Georgi to the exit. 

“Doctor Nikiforov!” 

Yakov jumped out of his seat as soon as the door he’d been observing for over an hour swung open. His presence left Georgi speechless, as the man he didn’t know or expect to be there approached him and firmly shook his hand, calling him by the name of his therapist. 

“I’m special agent…” 

“I hate to be discourteous but this is a private exit for my patients,” Viktor cut in with a displeased scowl, stepping up closer behind Georgi. 

“Oh, doctor Nikiforov, sorry…” Yakov looked up, immediately letting go of the dark haired man’s hand. With a flustered smile, he reached into the inner breast pocket of his jacket and took out his ID. “I’m special agent Yakov Feltsman, FBI. May I come in?” He asked, showing his credentials. 

Georgi’s mouth fell open, as he looked wide-eyed between his doctor to the FBI agent. 

_Oh God, The FBI_ , his mind helpfully supplied.

He almost felt lightheaded from the tension that suddenly filled the small backroom. 

Viktor leaned forward, reading carefully through every information, expression schooled into being perfectly neutral with a dash of condescending. One of his personal favourites. 

“You may wait in the waiting room,” he replied curtly, ignoring the agent. Yakov shoulders sagged in defeat as he fell deep in thought. “Georgi, I’ll see you next week,” he said with a friendly lilt to his voice. 

“Y-yes,” the man stammered, more than glad to be leaving. 

“Unless this is about him,” Viktor added teasingly, eyes brightening up a little.

Georgi froze, not even daring to turn around. The heavy droplets of perspiration gathered along his hairline, threatening to run down his temples. 

“No…” Yakov started distractedly with a polite smile. “No, this is all about you.” 

Georgi let out a relieved sigh as he scurried towards the exit, hoping it didn’t look rushed. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets, leaving the two men to their own devices. He needed a drink. ASAP.

  


* * *

  


Viktor took his time tidying up the office in preparation for his unannounced visitor. He checked twice everything was in its place. Everything had to be perfect.

 _Today might yet turn out to be interesting,_ he thought, as his dress shoes clicked on the hardwood floor. 

“Please, come in,” he said, opening the door invitingly. 

Yakov nodded, getting up from the chair in the waiting room. It was difficult not to let the irritation at being dismissed earlier get better of him. However, he was a professional and he had come here with a purpose. He looked around the vast office, surprised by the high ceiling and only one albeit sizeable desk. 

“So, may I ask how this is all about me?” Viktor asked, staying by the door. 

“You can, but I may have to ask some questions first.” Viktor nodded with a friendly smile. “Are you expecting another patient?” Yakov asked, pointing at the door. 

“No, we’re all alone.”

“Good, good…” Yakov muttered to himself, looking around. The doctor tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing briefly. “No secretary?” 

“She was predispositioned to romantic whims,” he replied wistfully, coming up a couple of steps behind the agent. “Followed her heart to Saint Petersburg. I was sad to see her go, but who am I to stand in the way of love.”

He followed Yakov into a small alcove in the far end of his office behind the desk. There was a table, lots of bright lights carefully placed around, illuminating numerous drawings and sketches. Pieces of paper of various sizes were stacked neatly along its length, right next to the wide range of pencils. 

For the first time in a long while Viktor felt a genuine thrill of excitement running up his spine. That was such a magnificent development. His blue eyes were roaming the plane of exposed neck, zeroing on the tendons moving just underneath the pale skin. He stopped beside Yakov as the man took off a protective layer of a thin pergamin, revealing a sketch of a building. 

“Wow, are these yours, doctor?” Yakov asked, voice filled with amazement. 

“Among the very first. My boarding school in Paris when I was a boy,” he supplied. 

“The amount of details is incredible.” The agent turned to him, completely disregarding his drawing of _Wound Man_ that was partially sticking out from underneath. 

“I learned very early a scalpel cuts better points than a pencil sharpener,” Viktor said, taking the mentioned tool and a pencil that rested next to the drawings into his hands. With little to no pressure the blade cut smoothly into the wood. 

“Well, now I understand why your drawings earned you an internship at Johns Hopkins,” Yakov said conversationally, returning to the main room. 

Viktor almost scoffed out loud. _So you know of my internship and how I got it, but couldn’t have bothered to look up my face?_ He thought, turning his back on the drawings, jaw clenched. _Did he make the connection, I wonder? It’d be a shame… I really like this suit…_

“I’m beginning to suspect you’re investigating me, Agent Feltsman,” he asked in a playful tone of voice, the scalpel and pencil still in his hand. 

“No, no!” Yakov laughed gruffly, completely missing the steely flash in the blue eyes. “No, you were referred to me by Yuuko Nishigori… in the psychology department in Georgetown.”

Viktor sighed, face losing its edge as he smiled knowingly. He let his fringe topple over his eyes as he turned the blade between his fingers. _Well isn’t that slightly disappointing…_

“Most psychology departments are filled with personality deficients,” he said out loud, as he joined the agent. He set the instruments neatly at the edge of his desk and faced the man. “Doctor Nishigori would be an exception.” 

“Yes, she would. Yes, she would,” Yakov chuckled, remembering their conversation from earlier. “Well, she told me that you mentored her during her residency at Johns Hopkins.”

“I learned as much from her as she did from me,” he replied, dipping his head slightly. 

“She also showed me your paper… _Evolutionary Origins of Social Exclusion_?” Very interesting… Very interesting,” Yakov noted. “Even for a laymen.”

Viktor’s smile froze on his lips. He just did this _humble_ thing a moment ago. Was Yakov not watching? In his personal opinion, he executed it perfectly. He raised an eyebrow. 

“So many learned fellows roaming the halls of Behavioral Science at the FBI with you as their superior,” Viktor started, acutely watching the agent, “and you consider yourself a layman?” 

“I do when I’m in your company, doctor,” Yakov replied with a nod, not even a muscle twitching in his face. 

_Flattery will get you everywhere_ , the doctor thought, almost impressed. 

“I need you to help me with a psychological profile.”

  


####  \------------- FBI Academy, Quantico, Virginia -------------

Today definitely wasn’t Yuuri's day. Not only he had to tell Yakov that the serial murderer roaming the streets is also a cannibal, the man also came back into his office with a stranger in tow. He announced that dr Viktor Nikiforov would be helping with a profile from now on. 

He wasn’t sure what was more unsettling to him. 

He decided to sit in his chair in front of Yakov’s desk and sipped on his lemon balm tea. It tasted disgusting, but worked wonders for his nervous system. 

“Tell me then… how many confessions?” Viktor asked, looking at the huge pinboard.

“Twelve dozen, last time I checked. None of them had any details until this morning. Then suddenly they all had details,” Yakov huffed, returning to sit behind his desk. “Some _genius_ in Duluth PD took a photograph of Justin Nichols’ body with his phone and shared it with his friends. And then Jean Jacques Leroy got his hands on it and posted on _Tattlecrime_.” 

Yuuri felt his jaw clench as soon as he heard the name. 

“Tasteless,” he scoffed quietly. 

“Do you have trouble with taste?” 

Viktor’s sudden question startled him. He looked briefly in the direction of his voice, but didn’t linger on the man. He generally wasn’t fond of strangers and psychiatrists somewhat struck a nerve in him. 

“My thoughts are often not tasty,” Yuuri said, barely controlling the attitude that almost managed to slip into his voice. 

“Nor are mine,” Viktor replied, unperturbed by the hostility. He looked closely at the map and then turned around. “No effective barriers.” 

“I build forts.”

“Associations come quickly,” he said, sitting in an empty chair next to Yuuri. 

“So do forts,” Yuuri gritted out, set on proving the man wrong. 

Where this competitiveness came from, he didn’t know. What he knew though was that having Makkachin here would improve the situation immensely. Dogs overall possess such property. He could use a shield of sorts. Especially that he could almost physically feel bright blue eyes boring into his profile. 

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?” Viktor chatted up with a friendly smile, before taking a sip from his cup. 

Yuuri breathed slowly, lips pulled into a thin line. 

“Eyes are distracting. You see too much, you don’t see enough,” he said in a mocking parody of a small-talk voice. He turned in his chair to face him directly. “And it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking, uhm, _Oh, those whites are really white_ or _He must have hepatits_ or _Oh, is that… is that a burst vein?_ ,” Yuuri reeled off with an almost snarl twisting his upper lip, as he made a show of exaggeratingly looking into Viktor’s eyes.The latter didn’t break the contact, easily returning the gesture. The only response Yuuri got was an amused chuckle. “So yeah, I try to avoid eyes whenever possible. Yakov?”

“Yes?”

He didn’t even notice when Yakov made himself scarce and wandered off to the pinboard. Yuuri wanted to get this over with. He shuffled through the documents on his side of the desk. 

“I imagine what you see and learn…” Yuuri’s head snapped back to the doctor, not expecting him to talk to him again. “…touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present and yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams.” The unnerving steady stare made Yuuri’s skin crawl. Something was wrong. “No forts in the bone arena of your skull for the things you love.”

And then it clicked. Yuuri almost bared his teeth at the insolent stranger, deep wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. 

“Whose profile are you working on?” He hissed with a tremble in his voice, brown eyes flashing in anger. “Whose profile is he working on?” He turned the accusatory question to Yakov who also remained suspiciously silent. 

“I’m sorry, Yuuri. Observing is what we do. I can’t shut mine off any more than you can shut off yours,” Viktor said, casting a sideways glance towards Yuuri. 

_Wow~! Don’t we already have so much in common?_ , Viktor thought, delighted. This whole day turned out better than he had anticipated. 

“Please, don’t psychoanalyse me,” Yuuri growled in a low voice, glaring at Yakov. “You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalysed.” 

“Yuuri…” Yakov started, but Yuuri was already out of the chair, gathering his things. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Yuuri said in an overly polite voice, “I have to go give a lecture… on _psychoanalysing_.” That might not have been true but Yuuri was feeling petulant. With last one glare, he left the office letting the glass door fall shut noisily behind him. 

“We shouldn’t poke him like that, doctor.” Yakov broke the awkward silence Yuuri left in his wake. “Perhaps a less direct approach would be more appropriate.” 

“What he has is pure empathy,” Viktor announced with shimmering eyes, leaning forward in his chair. He was fascinated and oh so utterly charmed by this awkward man. “He can assume your point of view, or mine, and maybe some other points of view that scare him. It’s an uncomfortable gift, Yakov.” The agent hummed in understanding. Viktor looked over at the pinboard, idea already forming in his head. “Perception is a tool that’s pointed on both ends. This cannibal you have him getting to know… I think I can help our Yuuri see his face.”

  


####  \------------- Hibbing, Minnesota -------------

In the middle of nowhere a massive stag head was surrounded at the base with equally massive rocks to keep it stable. Its glassy black eyes glistened in the late autumn sun. Noisy ravens gathered around it, feasting on the carved open chest of a boy mounted on the impressive antlers. Some of it pierced right through the soft flesh, blood already dried out. Thin rivulets of it dripped down onto the fur. The birds tugged viciously on the insides, ignoring people around them. 

_Nature never wastes any time to get back what’s hers,_ Yakov thought.

The dead boy was virtually the same in appearance as the victims of their elusive cannibal. Mila tried to shoo the birds away, but they landed a couple of meters away from the scene. Yakov rubbed his face, shadows underneath the eyes made even more prominent in the morning light. 

“Stag head was reported stolen last night… about a mile from here,” he announced, circling the body. 

“Just the head?” Yuuri asked, throat tight, as he kept his distance. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the morbid yet somehow lewd display in front of him. 

“Minneapolis Homicide’s already made a statement. They’re calling him the Minnesota Shrike.” 

“Like a bird?” 

“Shrike is a perching bird,” Seung-gil chimed in, turning away from the body. He faced Yuuri and continued. “Impales mice and lizards on thorny branches and barbed wire. Rips their organs right out of their bodies, puts them in a little birdie pantry for later.” 

“I can’t tell whether it’s sloppy or shrewd…” Yakov grumbled, deep frown marring his forehead. 

“He wanted him found this way,” Yuuri said, slowly approaching closer. “It’s… it’s petulant. I almost feel like he’s mocking him… spreading him out like that.” 

_Or maybe he’s mocking us,_ he thought, kneeling next to the boys head. 

“Where did all his love go?”

“Whoever tucked Justin Nichols into bed didn’t paint this picture,” Yuuri half-whispered, his eyes widening as soon as the brain caught up with the meaning his words carried. 

_There is more of them…_

“He…” Mila coughed, hiding her mouth behind her forearm. “He took his lungs… I’m pretty sure he was alive when they were cut out,” she added, pointing at the swollen edges of the wound, still glistening with blood. 

“Our cannibal _loves_ those boys,” Yuuri said, stressing every syllable. He frowned, thinking of a way to make his thoughts into something more coherent. “He doesn’t want to destroy them. He wants to consume them, to keep some part of them inside. This boy’s killer thought that he was a pig,” he spat out in disgust.

  


* * *

  


Late supper was something Victor indulged in very rarely. However, the recent development certainly called for some sort of celebration. And the butcher really outdid himself this time. As if he knew that Victor could never resist the moist pink glow of a fresh offal. 

He tied his apron behind his back and rolled up the sleeves of equally pristine white dress shirt. He laid the lungs on a wooden board, admiring them with a small smile. Victor breathed deeply, as he pressed down on the organ, massaging the remaining air out of it. With practised ease he cut out the main bronchial pipe and smaller tubes and diced the remaining meat.

  


* * *

  


“You think this was a copycat?” Yakov asked. 

_Obviously!_ Yuuri almost shouted, as he briskly walked away from the corpse. 

“The cannibal who killed Justin Nichols had a place to do it and no interest in this field theatrics,” he said, trembling all over. There was something deeply disturbing underneath this obvious picture of gore that had him shaken to the core. “So, he has a house…“

  


* * *

  


The sizzling meat filled the kitchen with a distinct aroma and sounds. With a concentrated pout Victor stirred the pan’s content, observing how lungs browned pleasantly between pieces of tomatoes and shallots. He added more wine and let the flames from the cooker engulf the content. 

Icy blue eyes greedily took in the sight.

  


* * *

  


“…or two, or a… a cabin, something with the antler room,” Yuuri stuttered, continuing his speech. He looked over the body, sudden realisation dawning on him. “He has a son. The same age as the other boys. Same… same hair colour, eye colour, height, weight… you name it. He’s an only child. He’s leaving home. He can’t stand the thought of losing him,” Yuuri finished, hands clenched in a tight fists at his sides. “He’s the golden ticket.” 

He turned on his heel, itching to get away. His job here was done. 

“What about the copycat?” Yakov called out to him.

Yuuri couldn’t control his frayed nerves any longer and laughed derisively out loud. 

“You know even better than I do that an intelligent psychopath… and a sadist at that… is very hard to catch, Yakov. There’ll be no traceable motive, no pattern to latch onto. He may never kill this way again.” 

He bit down on his lip, leaving Yakov to his musings. He could feel that the man wanted to question him some more. That, and the general aura of the display made him quite petulant himself. 

“Have doctor Nikiforov draw up a psychological profile,” he threw over his shoulder, which roughly translated to _this is a completely new case I have no desire to be assigned to, deal with it yourself_. “You seemed very keen on his opinion,” he added for a good measure, weaving between roaming agents.

  


* * *

  


The dining table set, Victor finally sat down to savour his meal. He cut a small piece of juicy lung, eyelids falling shut as he chewed. Nothing could really beat fresh ingredients in the kitchen. 

_I wonder what’s Yuuri going to say,_ he chuckled down at a cherry tomato speared on a fork, blue eyes the brightest thing in the entire room. _Such a surprising day… may there be more of them,_ he thought, sipping on a wine between bites.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, a small sample to start things off. And I feel obliged to mention: I have no idea what I'm doing.


End file.
